At that exact moment, 6-0-0, the sun climbed over the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry-god self. Its reection ared across the river toward our house, a long, blaring nger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have been seen. You will be seen.

Nonono, Nick,’ Gilpin interrupted. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat on it backward. I wondered if cops actually did that. Or did some clever actor do that, and then cops began doing it because they’d seen the actors playing cops do that and it looked cool?

That’s the way plants down here work: The Mexicans get the shittiest, most dangerous jobs, and the whites still complain.

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